


Fire And Ice

by orphan_account



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: ANGST!!, Character Death, F/M, Loki-centric, Self-Blame, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, So really, angsty, no, not really - Freeform, shockingly, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif takes a blade that was meant for Loki.  How far is the desperate prince willing to go to save his love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire And Ice

   "Retreat!" Sif heard her commander calling over the noise of battle, "Retreat!"

She fought her way back to camp, slashing through frost giants, and littering the ground with bodies.  She had nearly made it back to the lines of her fellow warriors.  Just a few more feet.  She looked to her left, expecting to see green eyes shining, teeth bared in a grin, but Loki wasn't besides her.  Sif spun frantically, eyes searching for his tell-tale swirl of green magic.  There.  About fifty feet behind her.  Loki was surrounded by a seething ring of giants.  His magic lashed out, holding them back.  But she could tell he was weakening, blood seeping from a gash in his side.  She turned and rushed back into the fray, determined to help him.  His attacks slowed.  She had almost reached him.  Hold on, I'm coming! she thought desperately, begging to not be too late.

   Sif saw him fall, his attackers pushing through his magic barriers to get to him.  Then she was there.  Her foes fell beneath her whirling glaive.  She quickly cleared a ring around them.  She poured her last drops of healing elixir into Loki's mouth, and felt him stir besides her.  They were surrounded by the corpses of giants.  Sif kept the monsters back and Loki dragged himself up to help her.  She wrapped an arm beneath his shoulder, and half dragged, half carried him back to their camp.

   Sif saw four warriors, her friends, coming to assist them.  As she turned to parry away the ax of a frost giant she saw from the corner of her eye, another lift his arm to launch the icy spear held in his massive hand.   It flew through the air.  Everything moved in slow motion, as it speed straight for Loki's heart.  She didn't think.  She threw herself in front of him, taking the spear in her side.  Sif felt the cold tip pierce her skin.  The warrior cried out, falling to the ground.  Loki screamed, a primal sound of rage and grief.  A wall of green light exploded from him, incinerating every giant within a hundred feet.  He fell to his knees and held her to his chest, whispering a spell to stop the bleeding.  He lifted her pale, limp form and carried her back to camp.

.....

   Why? Loki wondered for the thousandth time, Why would she do that for me?.  He paced outside of the healing rooms, lost in thought.  How could she have done this?  How could I have let her?  The mage seen the way the healers looked at each other, murmuring in low voices.  He held his breath, waiting.  They finally came to him, told him how she had lost so much blood, how deep the wound was.  Finally, that she may not live.

"No!" cried Loki, "no, I won't accept that.  She will survive!  She has to."

"There is nothing we came do." was the reply.

"There may be something I can do, though."  He pulled the shadows around himself, and the walls melted away, replaced by the book shelves of his study.  The prince paced, racking his mind for a solution, a spell, an elixir, anything.  He tore through the books which filled the room, calling for more be brought when he exhausted his supply, all to no avail.  He heard a gentle rap on the door, and his mother entered.  

"My dear, you really must rest.  You've barely eaten anything since the battle, and have slept even less." her voice was plaintive with concern.

"I can't.  Not while she lies so close to Valhalla."

Frigga sighed, "Then perhaps I can help you.  After all, I have been collecting knowledge far longer than you."

"Thank you. I-I can't lose her."  Loki's voice cracked, his eyes glistening.

Frigga held him, cradling his head against her as she had done when he was a babe, when his face was uncreased with centuries of worry.  Safe in the embrace that had held him so many times before, Loki couldn't pretend any longer.  He cried.  He cried for her, for how close he was to losing her, without ever really having her.  He cried for himself, fearing that he may fail, that she may slip away before he could do anything.

.....

   "Mother look at this!" called Loki.

Frigga looked up from the volume she had been searching through, "What is it?"

"It may help," he replied, "I've found a way to communicate through dreams.  What if I could speak to her?  It may not help, or even work, but it's worth a try.  I can't stand doing nothing."

"I agree." said Frigga, "But you must rest before you perform any complicated spells like this.  I will watch over her."

.....

   "Be gone."  Loki's voice echoed throughout the healing hall.  The healers dispersed as he walked to Sif's bed.  Her face was as pale as snow, her eyelids did not so much as flutter. He cupped her cheek with his hand, her skin was cool.  Lacking her usual wolfish grin, Sif seemed smaller, weaker.  The mage's hands wove in a strange dance above her head.  Leaning over, Loki placed a gentle kiss on her temple.  He felt his mind step from his body.  As his body collapsed to the stone floor, Loki's mind drifted towards Sif's still form.  The hall around them melted into the battle field, frozen in place.  He stood besides her as she stared, horror written upon her face, at him surrounded by Frost Giants.  He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.  She jerked away, and collapsed to the blood soaked ground.  Dropping to his knees, he rested her limp body across his lap.  She gave a shuddering breath, and opened her eyes.  They were blood red.

"Help me." she gasped, "I can't see.  I can't breath.  Oh, it hurts! Am I dead?  Please don't be dead too!  I couldn't bare it if you had died."

Loki was crying again, tears running hot down his face, dropping into her hair.

"Don't cry." she said, her voice pleading.

"I-," He whispered through his tears, "I almost lost you.  Never do that again.  I don't know how I could go on without you."

"I'll try not to get myself fatally wounded again" she said, a faint smile pulling at her white, bloodless lips.

"No, I will save you.  I won't let you die!"

"It's okay." she said faintly.

He felt a tug, and the dream blurred.

   Loki sat up, gasping.  He was, for some reason sprawled across the floor in a most undignified way.  Then it all can flooding back to him, the pain along with it.  He sobbed, and leaned back against her bed.  He buried his face in his hands as hopelessness washed over him.  She had done it for him.  She would die for him.  The dark prince wished he had been the one to take that spear.  Sif would have been strong enough to go on without him.  He just wasn't that strong.  He had to save her.  Nothing was more important.  Loki tried to stand, to use the shadows, anything to get back to his study.  Sif was fading fast.  Yet, he could not.  He tried to summon a spark, anything.  But he was completely drained, both magically and physically.  Loki dragged himself to his feet, and made it a few steps before collapsing into an exhausted stupor.

.....

   The prince woke with a jolt.  He was in his bed, buried beneath a mountain of furs.  Sitting up, he saw Frigga, asleep in a chair at his bedside.  She had been up late in to the night searching for a cure.  Her efforts had been fruitless. Loki lifted a glass of water to parched lips.  His head pounded, his breath rattled painfully in his aching chest.  The dream, he thought, it worked.  Sort of.  Frigga opened her eyes, looking no more rested than before.  The price of their possible failure weighed heavily on them both.

"Well, we have work to do, and I'm accomplishing nothing here." Loki said.

"That's not true," protested Frigga, "you are replenishing your strength.  Which you need, if you plan to help Sif.  What did you learn from the dream connection?  I take it that it worked."

He sighed, "She has lost hope. Her strength is failing her fast, her heart is weak.  She is barely conscious enough to dream."  He did not mention his tears, nor did he mention how she had chosen to end her life in order for him to survive.  He could barely bring himself to think of it, let alone tell another what had been said between them, even his mother.

   They returned to Loki's study and sent for more books to be brought to them.  They spent the next day and a half looking through books on magic, healing, and anatomy.  They found nothing.  The prince became increasingly desperate, even willing to try the dream connection again, which Frigga immediately forbid.  Loki left the palace, and went in search of any information that may help.

.....

   Loki approached the library cautiously.  The building writhed with black magic. It held all forbidden knowledge of magic, of magic hidden from the common mind.  The mage searched through the stacks, reading anything which could be of any use.  He quickly exhausted the supply of text, and slumped into a rickety seat, defeated.  This library had been his last lead, his last chance.  Loki had failed.  Sif would die, because of his incompetence.  The dark prince slammed his fist against the the wall, denting the thin plaster, yellowed with age.  He stood to leave and felt his foot bump against a book beneath the table.  Bending, he looked at the unlabeled cover.  He flipped through the pages.  The book held knowledge of magic darker than anything the mage had seen before.  His fingers brushed a page thicker than the others.  Upon closer inspection, it was actually an extra sheet, stuck between the pages.  He plucked the sheet free, and pulled the shadows around him, appearing in his study.

   "Mother! I may have found it!" Loki cried.

"What is it?" asked Frigga.

"It's a spell.  A very complicated and old spell, but I think I can do it.  It would bind Sif's life to mine.  So long as I lived, she would borrow my strength.  Once she is recovered, I believe the connection could be broken."

Frigga took the parchment from his hands, reading it quickly, "My son, this is very risky, if you fail, you both could die."

"If I don't try, she will die anyway. And I can't want to live without her." his voice was quiet, "Will you help?"

"Of course," replied Frigga, "let us go.  We have much work to do."

.....

   Once more Loki stood over Sif's fragile form.  One last chance to save her.  He could not afford to fail.  The warrior was his everything, and the prince would risk his life for her, as she had done for him.  Frigga approached her younger son, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder,  "Loki, I know you love Sif, and that you will do anything for her, but don't make me lose you as well.  She would not want you to die for her anymore than you want her to die for you."

"I know mother, and I will be careful.  But you have to understand, I can't go on without at least trying.  She would expect no less." he replied.

"I know. I will stay here while you attempt this, and don't think you can get rid of me."

"Of course not.  I want you here with me." And the dance began.  Loki wove magic in green tendrils over Sif's prone body, twining it between them.  His chest began to ache, and he gripped her hand.  Was it just him, or was the warrior's skin slightly colder?  The prince continued the spell.  He was already beginning to tire, his skin becoming feverish.  His body was burning, the heat searing through him.  He stumbled, doubling over.

"What's wrong?"  Frigga stood, stepping closer.  Then the spell was over, but the burning, the pain continued.  It worsened, and Loki fell back against a column.  He collapsed, his skull cracking against the marble base of the column.  His vision blurred and the world faded in to darkness.

   Loki's eyes opened.  He was lying on a deserted battlefield.  Then he realized it was that battlefield, the one that haunted his dreams so frequently these days.  There was a woman, her raven hair rippling in a wind that only touched her.  She knelt at the prince's side, and he saw that it was her, it was Sif.  A single tear trickled down her face when she spoke, "My love, you must stop.  You will kill yourself, and for nothing, for it will not work.  You cannot save me.  You have to let me go."

"No," Loki croaked, "Never."  A knife of heat stabbed through his chest, and he cried out.

The warrior placed a gentle hand upon his cheek, "Please.  I cannot let you do this for me.  The pain will worsen, until it kills us both."  Her hand was freezing, her fingertips turning pale blue.

The mage realized he was crying as well, "I have to, I cannot live without you."

"You can," She replied sadly, "and you must.  Goodbye my love, I pray you will forgive me."  And the dream faded into black.

.....

   Finally, the pain was subsiding.  Loki still felt feverish, but it was no longer unbearable.  His head though, that hurt.  Gently, he touched his temple.  His fingertips came away red with blood.  Opening his eyes, he found he was lying on the floor in the healing hall, Frigga leaning over him.  Her face was wet with tears.

"Oh, I thought I had lost you!" cried Frigga, "You were crying, what happened?

"No!" Loki dragged himself to his feet, staggering over to her bed.  He placed a hand on Sif's ice cold cheek.  He desperately gripped her wrist, searching for a pulse, anything.  But there was nothing, she was gone and nothing the mage could do would bring her back.  Loki's hand dropped to his side.  He fell back into the chair besides her bedside.

"No." he whispered.  This couldn't happen.  He couldn't have failed.  She couldn't be gone.  Frigga wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her.  He sobbed into her shoulder.  Sif was gone, and he would never see her again.

.....

   "You must listen," said Frigga, "You don't seem very concerned at all!"

"My dear, there is no reason for concern." replied Odin, "He will recover.  He will move on, after all, she was only a friend, a very good one, but just a friend."

"How can you be so blind?  Loki loved her.  He doesn't eat.  He won't speak to anyone, not even me.  You know he blames himself for Sif's death, and I fear for his sanity."

   The prince had locked his rooms and neither left nor let anyone in.  Frigga would stand outside, and she would hear him speaking to someone, but she knew there was no one there.  She would listen, as he cried late into the night, until he finally fell asleep.  His cries echoed through the hall, plagued as he was by nightmares.

#### .....

   Loki slowly unlaced his boots, drawing his dagger from a hidden sheath as he did so.  The blade glistened in the pale morning light.  He gripped the hilt tightly.  The velvet drapes fluttered in the cold winter breeze.  Placing a finger along the edge of the blade, he wondered for the thousandth time if he would ever see her again.  Yes, he knew Sif was dead, but he also knew that her spirit lived on in Valhalla.  He prayed that, when he died, he would be worthy to be with her again, even though he had failed.  Loki felt himself slipping into the grief that had haunted him, that had prevented him from eating, from speaking to anyone.  He pressed the blade of his dagger into the palm of his hand.  Just to see himself bleed, to see that blood still pumped through him.  It was a special type of torture, seeing that he was still alive, even though she was dead.

   Loki stood, and walked to the open window.  The first snowflakes of winter drifted from the slate gray sky.  He turned, and opened the doors to his chamber for the first time in a month.  Loki walked outside to the stables.  He needed to see someone who would simply listen, not try to comfort him.  He needed to speak with his son.  

   Sleipnir whinnied in greeting.  Loki mounted, and they left the castle at a gallop.  They went to the forest, where Loki had spent most of his childhood.  The snow was falling heavily, but Loki did not feel cold, even though he had neglected to bring his cloak.  He dismounted, and they walked to a clearing, where he and Sif had once sparred.  Loki's throat tightened, his breathing grew ragged.  it seemed that everywhere he went he was reminded of her.  Sleipnir butted his head against his father's shoulder, whinnying in concern.

"Oh Sleipnir, I'm sorry.  It's just I-,"  Loki sighed, and sank to the ground, leaning against a tree.  His bare arms sank into the snow.  A tingling spread up his arms, a feeling of warmth and rightness.  He lifted his arms from the snow, and the feeling began to fade.  He saw the saturated blue, the Jotun markings, the black finger nails.  The hand of a Frost Giant, a monster, Sif's killer.  Then the blue faded back to his normal, pale Aesir skin.  It all made sense.  His preference for the cold, his fear of fire, and finally, the pain they both felt when he had attempted to join his life force with Sif's.  He was Jotun, and he was responsible for her death.  Odin had kept it from him, had hidden his heritage, even when Sif's life was on the line.  Loki leapt on to Sleipnir's back, and they raced back to the palace.

   Loki burst into the throne room, startling the Vanir dignitaries, as well as his parents (no, not his parents, the king and queen).

He screamed, "How could you?  It's all my fault!"  Frigga stood, rushing to his side.  Odin raised his hand, dismissing the court.

"Loki," said Frigga, gripping his shoulders, "we love you.  You are a good person, and Sif's death was not your fault."

"What is this all about?" cried Odin.

"He knows." was all Frigga said.

"I'm one of them.  One of the monsters that killed her.  She is dead because of me!" sobbed Loki, "It was that spell, it didn't work because I'm Jotun.  Why would you take me in, pretend that I'm your son?"

Odin passed a hand over his face, "Loki, you were abandoned in a temple, near the end of the war.  Just an innocent little babe."

"You are our son.  Your birth matters not."  Frigga, normally so strong, seemed beaten.  Loki looked down at his hands with an expression of disgust.  Frigga folded his pale ones into her own darker hands.  Her fingers grazed his palm, and  Loki bit back a hiss of pain.  Frigga turned his hands over, and gasped.  Along his palm was a criss cross of scars, some old, some still raw and red.  They traced up his arms, hidden by his sleeves.  Loki shrugged off her touch, and disappeared back to his rooms.

#### .....

  
   Loki close the windows, blocking the comforting chill.  He leaned back against warm stone of the fireplace.  The mantle was painfully hot at his back.  Monster, killer. Loki drew his dagger.  He rolled his sleeves back, running the tip against his cool flesh.  Blood welled along the thin line.  It did not hurt, his arm was numb.  He dug deeper, desperate to feel the pain.  It wasn't enough.  He was a monster, he did not deserve love.  He did not deserve to live.  Loki watched as blood pooled on the wooden floor of his room.  He slid the knife deeper, felt it scrape bone.  His vision darkened.  His last conscious thought, I hope Mother doesn't find me, but beasts should not be allowed to live.


End file.
